All Tied Up

We had just gone for a walk. That's all. I had no idea that the afternoon was going to get sexy although by now I should have known the signs and my own inclinations. He had brought a couple of bottles of wine and his inevitable back pack. He never goes anywhere without it, as it contains all the items he likes to use on me, but it didn't ring any alarm bells because, as I said, he always has it with him. It might contain nothing more than a picnic, and perhaps some extra bottles of wine, but I never knew exactly what he had in that bag.

We found a nice little glade almost hidden in the undergrowth, just a small area of grass surrounded by bushes, and a few more mature trees. The leaves of the silver birches had started to turn that lovely golden colour of autumn, the bark shining in the late sunshine, making the trunks look like columns of fire. He spread a blanket on the ground and opened a bottle. It was a strong dry white, my favourite, and too often my downfall because it usually only takes a glass or two to lower my inhibitions. Three or four, and I'm a slave to his wishes!

As it was still quite warm I was dressed in a pair of white shorts, very short shorts, cut high on the leg to expose more flesh than was seemly, and only just covering my vital bits, the back so tight it parted my cheeks and pushed them apart to show off my cute bum to its very best, the waist band only just covering the Brazilian I had carefully shaved just for him – hipsters perhaps but more like very low rise, so low the zip was only an inch or so long.

My top was almost see-through silk, again just for him, to excite and inflame his sexual desire for me. It was held together by a knot in front, just below my bust, revealing my bare belly and that bunny girl, belly button ring he had persuaded me to have done last year. I felt and looked very exposed, again just for him. He loves me to look sexy, well more than sexy. He wants me to look like a hooker, and I give in to his desire because it makes him want to have me so badly and when he does, guess what, I give in to that desire too.

The only other items of clothing were my boots, the most impractical things to wear in the forest, but just right to get him going: knee high, four inch stiletto heels, white to match my top and shorts. All pure and virginal you might think, but that was the last thing on my mind, because there was nothing pure about my thoughts. I wanted him so much and he knew it, but he was going to make me want him a lot more before he allowed me any satisfaction. He was going to tease me until I begged him for it, as he knew so well I would.

That is how we like to do it. I am quite submissive, while he is domineering to the point of being almost sadistic. He will often make me beg to suck his cock, then beg to take his cum down my throat, beg to be fucked, beg to be made to cum and in fact beg to be his slave. Now don't go feeling sorry for me because it all drives me wild. He gives me such incredible climaxes and so many, that every little plea is worth it, every word of submission is like a prayer for more – and he makes sure that my prayers are always answered!

So there we were. I was sitting with my legs tucked under me in a pose of butter-wouldn't-melt-in-my-mouth modesty, or at least as modest as a girl can be, dressed as I was. My titties were standing proud against the tight silk of my shirt, my nipples dimpling the sheer material. It was quite warm in our sheltered glade and I was perspiring slightly, partly from the heat, but more in anticipation as he refilled my glass. The gloss of perspiration on my boobs made the silk transparent, sticking to my skin like a thin sheet of gossamer.

As I was drinking my third glass of wine he looked over at me. 'Why don't you kneel on the blanket so I can see you better?' he said.

Without a murmur I shifted onto my knees.

'Put your hands behind your back.'

His voice, though quiet, was commanding and I did as I was told.

From his bag he drew a white silk scarf. Now he was grinning wickedly. Holding the scarf in his two big fists, he covered my eyes and knotted it at the back tightly. I could see nothing.

'I've a present for you,' he whispered. I know the surprises he likes to give me and my heart fluttered with expectation. I heard him delve into the bag and the clanking of metal. Then he reached behind me and drew my forearms together against my butt. I felt the cold steel of the handcuffs close tightly on my wrists and let out a long sigh of surrender. Already little eddies of desire were radiating from my pussy and I was hungry for his cock. He pulled down my hands and hooked the chain under the heels of my boots. I was trapped with my arms hard against my back and my body arched backwards, pushing out my swollen titties.

He pulled on the chain, checking that it was secure. It was and I could hardly move my arms at all. Then his hands were on my breasts, slowly moulding and massaging them, stroking my peeping nipples through the silk, making me squirm with longing and bringing moans of delight from my lips, as his fingers nipped the tips. I thrust out my breasts, trying to rub myself against him, wanting to feel the hardness of his sex pressing against my stomach.

'Don't make me wait. Please don't make me wait,' I begged blindly, imagining his cock big and stiff inside his pants.

'Not yet,' he murmured, pulling away from me and relishing his power over me.

'You'll do anything for me, won't you?' he asked forthrightly.

'Yes,' I said. Anything, I thought, if you'll just fuck me, my darling.

'You remember what we talked about last night?' I could feel the warmth of his breath against my neck.

'Yes,' I said again, though now more uncertainly.

His hands returned to my breasts, squeezing them lovingly, tantalisingly.

'You remember how excited you got when I told you to imagine that I was a stranger taking you against your will?'

I should say here that my husband is the only man I have ever slept with. I was his virgin bride. Well, perhaps we didn't wait until the altar but ours was an exclusive relationship because, to be really honest, he is the only man I've met that I have ever wanted. But sometimes he talks about sharing me with other men and the appalling truth is that nothing turns me on as much. The night before, he had tethered me to the bed, my legs splayed over his shoulders, and he had fucked me relentlessly; and as I struggled against my binding, as I took him deep inside me and pretended that he was some anonymous lover who had seized me and was using my body as his fuck toy, he told me all the things that this mythical man would do to a cock-hungry whore like me, and I came so hard that I barely knew who I was with, only that I had never orgasmed so deeply and satisfyingly. As he pounded me through my climax and on to another, I knew that I just couldn't help it: I love to fantasise about having sex with strangers. In my dreams I don't even want to know their names but just to feel an unknown, uncaring cock invading my body and taking me to unrealised heights.

But that was just our fantasy, wasn't it? He would never really do that to me, would he?

I heard him stand up. Again he was rummaging in his bag. Then there was a whirring noise and I realised that he had turned on his camcorder. He seemed to be videoing me from every angle for his collection. He must have hundreds of films of me but never tires of taking more in different states of dress and undress, different poses and then, of course, there are the films of the two of us making love here, there and everywhere.

I sensed him next to me again. He leant over me and pecked me on the forehead.

'I'm going to leave you now. Who knows, maybe today will be the day that you fulfil your fantasy. Bye!'

I heard his footsteps receding into the distance. Now I was utterly alone and defenceless. Soon he'll be back, I told myself, and then he'll ram his gorgeous cock into my mouth and fuck me to exhaustion. He would, wouldn't he? Blindfolded, bound and helpless, I waited and, as I waited, I began to remember all the things he had said that a stranger would do to me, his cock-hungry whore. And the more I remembered, the more I realised how much my plight was turning him on; and that began to arouse my poor, needy pussy.

Who knows how long passed? With every whisper of a falling leaf or rustle of a scurrying squirrel, my mind jumped to attention and began to imagine what might befall me.

Was I frightened in this precarious situation? Yes, of course I was, but there was a much stronger sensation coursing through my veins – the thrill and fear of being forced to have sex with another man and discovering how a strange cock would feel stretching my pussy where only my husband's cock had been before. These were the mixed emotions that scampered through my consciousness.

After a while I heard two unfamiliar voices not far away. They were definitely men's voices. Perhaps they were innocent walkers and they wouldn't see me. Or had he really arranged for his (my?) fantasy to come true? Surely he wouldn't do that. As I pondered my plight, I could feel my fear battling against my sexual curiosity. Did I want them to notice me? At one moment fear and shame would gain the upper hand and I would duck my head, as best I could, in order to hide from their prying eyes. Then the next I would remember the yearning hunger I had felt the night before and imagine my husband's pleasure as he watched me from the bushes yielding my pussy to another man's pleasure, and I could feel my cunt moistening at the prospect of its surrender. And so, I decided to let chance determine my fate and, head held high, bosom pushed out in defiance, I waited to see what would happen.

The sound of talking approached until it was so close that my heart was pounding, my breath was held in abject fear. Please pass me by, I prayed, thinking better of my former foolhardiness. I don't need strangers to make me cum when I have a wonderful husband to do that.

And then the words I dreaded!

'Bloody hell! Look! There!'

His colleague laughed, 'God, what a gift.'

So my husband had delivered me to these fellows. I had no idea who they were as I knelt before them – a human sacrifice to their desires. White boots, white pants and white shirt, cuffed and blindfolded, my breasts voluptuously straining against their confines and my pussy smooth, moist and tight.

I heard them stroll over to me. I could feel their presence fill the glade and smell the testosterone emitted from their pores.

'Look at her,' said one. 'All tied up and waiting – and she can't even see who we are. It must be Christmas!'

The other chuckled. 'Shall we screw her straight away or have some fun with her first, what do you fancy?'

If this is my husband's doing, I thought, then he must have approved of them. He must have decided that they would fulfil my needs – and his, of course. Again the flickering flames of desire began to be roused in the very core of my being.

'Please don't hurt me,' I pleaded. 'Do what you want but don't hurt me.'

Now they were both laughing.

The first one said, 'Keep watch in case someone else comes. I saw her first, so I have the first fun.

'I want my turn too,' complained the other.

'Don't worry. Look at her. She's begging for it. There's more than enough for both of us.'

I wonder if they're handsome, I thought to myself. I wonder if I'd fancy them if I could see their faces. They had those terse, I-couldn't-give-a-fuck voices that really get me going but also scare me to death.

I heard one walk away but I could feel his eyes on me and wondered where my hubby was, from which vantage point he was filming this. For a while the first man just stood there enjoying (so I supposed) this vision before him. Then I shrieked as a hand reached out and pulled my top undone, spilling my bountiful titties to his unhindered view. He laughed and said, 'Nice pair!'

I heard the unbuckling of a belt and the zip of his pants.

'Do you like the taste of cock?' he asked.

I stayed silent and he slapped his hard, wet cock across my cheek.

'Do you like the taste of cock?' he repeated.

'Yes,' I said. 'Yes.'

'You love it, don't you?'

I nodded.

'Then ask nicely for some.'

God, I had never tasted another man's cock before. My pussy was swimming with dread and arousal.

'Please, sir, can I taste your cock?' I murmured.

'Louder!' he ordered.

I spoke up. 'Please, sir, can I taste your big, wet cock?'

I heard his friend laughing from across the glade.

'Of course you can. Suck on this, bitch.' Grabbing the back of my head, his fingers entwined in my hair, he pulled me onto his cock and rammed it down my throat. Oh, it was huge! He held it so long that I gagged with the size of it stuck in my gullet. My choking merely amused him.

'You'll choke a lot more than that, you slut. I'm going to shoot it down your throat.' He started using my head as a wanking device, pulling me forward and back as he thrust his cock into me.

'That's it. All the way, all the way!'

He was pushing so hard it actually hurt my nose, as his pelvic bone mashed against it on every stroke. His cock was so far down my throat I could only breathe on his outward moves. He was beginning to moan more and more loudly as he neared his climax.

'Go for it, bitch!' he roared.

In and out of my mouth his enormous rod slid with growing urgency.

'You know you want my spunk down your throat. Suck, you little whore, suck harder now,' as he pushed so hard it really hurt me.

His legs seemed to tense against my shoulders and he shot his cum down my throat. My mouth was full of hot sticky cum. He pulled out his dick and I was gasping for breath and dribbling his spunk down my chin.

'Let's see,' he said eagerly.

I opened my mouth and showed him my snowy white tongue.

'Now swallow like a good girl – and perhaps you won't have to suck off Fred.'

I did as he asked and felt his slippery cum sliding down my throat. Mmm, he tasted so different from my husband, but not unpleasant. I opened my mouth again to prove that I had obeyed him. I licked my lips and chin and savoured his salty juice.

'Aw, sorry,' he said, pulling my mouth back onto his cock to take the last bead of cum squeezed from it. 'It wouldn't be fair if Fred didn't have his turn.'

I grimaced at the prospect of having his friend too.

'Now, don't be like that,' he mocked me. 'You do realise what a lucky whore you are to have two such fine men, don't you?' His hand tugged at my hair.

'Yes, sir,' I answered bitterly. The taste of his cock and cum had only served to arouse me more. I half-hoped, half-feared that Fred would fuck me to a climax.

Calling his mate, he said, 'She's yours now, Fred, but I want some pussy later, so don't use her all up.'

Fred strolled over and pulled my shirt off my shoulders to see my breasts better.

'Beautiful tits,' he said admiringly as he weighed them in his sweaty palms. 'I'm going to have some fun with them.'

He pushed me back and I toppled over. Now I was lying half on my side, half on my back, my shackled wrists beneath me, digging into my butt. He unhooked the chain so that I was able at least to stretch out my legs on the blanket.

'Fuck, you've got gorgeous legs. Gorgeous pussy too, I bet.'

'Thank you, sir,' I muttered. My mouth still tasted of his colleague's cum.

I heard something being unsheathed and supposed correctly that it was a hunting knife. I felt the flat face of the cold steel press against my thigh. Slowly Fred slid it up my leg. Oh my God! What was he going to do to me? Terrified, I could feel sweat washing my lips. Was he going to cut me? He poked the point under my shorts and with a quick slash he cut the material from my body on each side. Laughingly he pulled the tattered cotton away, exposing the most intimate part of my body to his will.

He lay down beside me and ran the knife between my legs.

'Mmm. What a pretty pussy, just as I thought,' he whispered into my ear. 'I adore a pretty pussy.'

He rubbed the face of the knife against my cunt and I spread my legs wide so that he wouldn't cut me.

'Look how wet you are,' he said, chuckling. 'Better still, taste it.' He offered the face of the blade to my mouth and I carefully licked my own juices off the steel. How could I be so hungry for this heartless bastard? But I was. Oh, I was desperate to have him.

'Please, sir ....' I started cringingly.

'Yes?'

'Please fuck me.'

'Oh, I'm going to fuck you alright.' He paused. 'When I'm ready.'

His cock neared my wet pussy. Despite the fear I was dripping with girly juices. But he moved past my pussy and brought his cock up towards my face. Oh Jesus, another mouthful of stranger's cum, I thought.

However, he stopped as his cock nestled between my tits. He took them in his hands, wrapping them around his warm, pulsing shaft. With his knees trapping my body, he fucked my tits. His big, hairy balls brushed my rib cage, the tip of his cock touching my chin as he drove it between my titties. As he moved against me, hid body pulled at my naked flesh, making my pussy tingle with desire and some fear.

As we worked against each other, I thought again of my hubby, watching me proudly as I entertained his accomplices. Oh, he would be so pleased with me and that realisation made my exquisite ordeal worthwhile.

Now I was certain that eventually I was going to find out what it was like to be fucked by men who had no thoughts for me other than my cunt, pleasure the only thing on their minds, my body just a means to their end,. Meanwhile we were both panting helplessly as Fred drove his cock along the valley between my titties, making them sore from the friction.

With a final, bestial grunt he spurted gallons of his stuff over my face and neck. As he did so, his hands held my tits tightly round his cock, still driving it up like a jack hammer. His cum streaked my cheeks and lips. Because my hands were still cuffed behind me, I had to lick it away from my lips to be able to breathe. My nose was full of it as well. Only the night before, at my husband's bidding, I had dreamed of a strange man shooting his spunk over my naked body, but the actuality was a hundred times more frightening and a thousand times more thrilling.

As Fred lay, recovering his breath, I wondered how far my husband would let these strange men go. Would he really let them have their way or was this just a prelude to his own fucking of me. Oh, if it was, I would cum so hard for my darling. Would he just stay away until they tired of me and then come to pick up what was left, or would he come to my rescue? Even if he did, if they wanted me, what could he do against two strong men armed with a hunting knife? The times I had fantasised about being taken by strangers, the countless times we had discussed this very scenario, and now here I was – a plaything to be used as they pleased.

Fred climbed off me and called to his mate, 'Are you ready for some more or shall I give it to her first?'

'No, you can wait your turn,' he replied, walking back across my little glade to stand over me.

He must have relished the sight. Still trussed and blind, my naked body was splattered with cum, my clothes lying in tatters about me.

Dropping his trousers again, he said, 'You look about ready for it, don't you, my little beauty?' He prised my legs apart and lay between them. I felt his cock, already restored to its former enormity, hard against my belly.

'I'm going to fuck you senseless.'

'Oh God, sir. Please .... please ....' What was I trying to say: please don't fuck me or please do fuck me. Even I didn't know.

He felt so sexy against my skin but so threatening too, I didn't know whether I wanted him to take me or leave me. My heart was in palpitations, my breath coming in short gasps. This was to be the moment I found out what another man's cock felt like. Would it be better than my husband or would it disgust me?